Henry Alexander's story in The Spiral Down by Aly Martinez is NOW LIVE!
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Blurb
I was afraid to fly.
He made me soar.
After years of climbing the ladder of success
in the music industry, I finally had everything I could want.
Yet I still found myself wandering through
life alone.
Captain Evan Roth was the one man I never saw
coming.
Tall, dark, mysterious… Straight.
We were both damaged beyond repair and
searching for something so elusive we weren’t sure it even existed.
But, when two broken souls collide in midair,
falling is a given.
I just never expected to crave the spiral
down.
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Excerpt
Henry
“How about you and one
of your girls come out to my show in L.A. next week? My treat. Dinner, drinks,
the whole deal. Evan and I would love to take you two beautiful ladies out for
an evening.”
“Excuse me?” he
exclaimed, cocking his head to catch my gaze.
I leaned back into my
seat and lifted a hand to massage his shoulder. I was barely able to suppress a
moan when the angle of his firm trap muscle met my palm.
Fuck, this guy was
built like a brick wall. And I was going to love every second of watching him
crumble for me.
“Oh, come on, Evan.
It’s the least we can do. Double date.” I winked at Jessica. “You can fly them
out! My plane should be ready by then.”
Jessica’s eyes jumped
to Evan’s. “You’re a pilot?” Her smile spread irritatingly wide.
Back off, Ginger Spice.
Snapping my fingers in
her direction, I corrected, “He’s my
pilot.”
Subtlety was not a virtue I possessed. Was subtlety a
virtue at all?
“Your temporary pilot,” he amended before
shaking his head and then tipping his beer to his lips for a long pull.
“Anyway. Do we have a
date?” And, by date, I meant feeding her dinner while I attempted to work my
way into Evan’s pants.
She pressed one finger
to her lips and then nervously flashed her eyes around the cabin.
“Oops. Sorry.” I
shrugged sheepishly. Lifting my drink to my mouth, I discreetly passed her my
cocktail napkin and then not-so-discreetly brushed my forearm against Evan’s
chest as I pulled away.
He offered her a tight
smile just before she disappeared.
I grinned proudly.
“What the fucking hell
was that?” he whisper-yelled at me.
“That was me getting a
woman’s number.”
He arched an eyebrow.
“A woman. Really?”
“What? Is that not
allowed?” I feigned innocence.
He clenched his fist
in his lap, and it made me suddenly aware that my own hands had stopped
trembling—and in record time, I should note. Evan seemed to be quite useful in
the art of distraction.
He leaned closer.
“Don’t bullshit me. I looked you up. You’re…” He stopped, unwilling to say the
big, bad “G” word.
“I’m what?” I taunted.
He rolled his eyes and
chugged the rest of his beer.
We went back to
silence until Jessica came back by with another drink, complete with her phone
number written on the napkin.
“I’m not going on a
double date,” Evan said as I tucked the napkin into my pocket. “You want me to
fly them out? Not a problem. Schedule it with Jackson. But that’s the extent of
my professional responsibilities. And, since I’m off the clock right now, I’d
also like to mention that I think whatever play you’re planning to run on that
woman is fucked up.”
My head snapped to
his. “I’m sorry. Play?” I asked with more attitude than I had originally
planned.
“Yes. Play,” he
sneered.
I stirred my drink.
“Let me get this straight. I’m offering to fly her out in a private jet, feed
her dinner at one of the best restaurants in the city, and put her front row at
a concert that has been sold out for over a year. That doesn’t seem like a play
to me. It sounds like I’m trying to do something nice for a woman I was rude to
earlier.” I casually leaned back in my seat. “My conscience doesn’t ‘play’ when
it comes to apologies.”
“Right. Well, maybe
you should have a chat with your conscience, because she looks like she just
won the date of a lifetime. Meanwhile, you don’t even like women.” He stalled,
no doubt looking for just the right word to express his disgust without
sounding like a bigot. Judging by his gentleness when we’d taken off, he wasn’t
the type of guy to go for the fag bomb.
I watched him
intently, excited to see how he was going to handle this.
“You’re gay.”
I frowned at his lack
of creativity. “Not that it’s any of your damn business. But I’ll have you know
I love women.”
It wasn’t a lie. I
adored women. Especially Levee and Robin.
I just didn’t like
pussy. Meh. Semantics.
He gaped. “You’re bi?”
“And I’ll repeat: None
of your damn business. But yeah. Do you have a problem with that?”
Again, it wasn’t
necessarily a lie.
Was I bisexual? Fuck
no. My cock was in no way an equal opportunity employer.
I was somewhat
bilingual though. I knew how to ask for a blow job in English and Spanish. I pretended that was what
he meant.
Chupame la verga.
About the Author:
Aly Martinez
Born and raised in
Savannah, Georgia, Aly Martinez is a stay-at-home mom to four crazy kids under
the age of five, including a set of twins. Currently living in South Carolina,
she passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she
can get her hands on, preferably with a glass of wine at her side.
After some
encouragement from her friends, Aly decided to add “Author” to her ever-growing
list of job titles. Five books later, she shows no signs of slowing. So grab a
glass of Chardonnay, or a bottle if you’re hanging out with Aly, and join her
aboard the crazy train she calls life.
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